Sob Story

She allowed the tears to begin rolling down her cheeks as soon as she saw him getting out of his car, but the sobbing didn’t begin until she had buried her face in his chest, could feel the solid weight of his arms around her. She was oblivious to the other restaurant patrons getting out of their cars and walking through the parking lot, only pausing briefly to wonder about the couple standing in the drizzling rain; a little girl held her mother’s hand and starred, a solemn look on her shamelessly inquisitive eyes.

She was only aware of the comfort she felt in his embrace, as if her feet were on solid ground for the first time that day. Her shoulders shook with spasms caused by her inability to catch her breath and she could feel her tears become cold as they touched the shoulder of his polyester coat. The waterproofing made them roll off, but not before they had hit her cheek again and mingled with the fresh, hot tears that were continuing to fall.

She knew he was concerned, knew he was choking back tears of his own, caused by her misery. He would do anything to make it better. He would give up his dreams if it would only make her happy. But she didn’t need that; she only needed to fall against him and to have him hold her up. She needed a few moments to let go of the facade, to stop being perfect and having it all together. Just a minute to stop striving. To be her imperfect, broken, often incapable self. And to know that he probably loved her more because of it.

Lately

Lately, things have been busy. So busy.

I wish I had more time to stop and reflect. I'm constantly going but haven't had time to think about the impact of everything I'm doing. Nothing significant has been happening, just lots of little, consuming things. Lots of time at work. Lots of meetings outside of work. Keeping track of Matt's class schedule, grad school applications, volunteer work. Trying to spend time with friends. Having good conversations. Setting goals. Trying to plan for the future while remaining in the present.

But I'm a big believer in having time to process. May have to set aside some time soon.

Pictures

I take pictures to capture experiences. To be able to look back and remember a specific time or place with absolute clarity. 
To relive it, in a sense. 

Recently, I attended a funeral. And the sweetest part was the pictures that were displayed and the memories that they triggered. Family and friends told stories and cried and laughed as they remembered. 

Someday, I want my kids or grandkids or great-grandkids to see the pictures I've taken and to feel a connection with their heritage. 
To get a sense of where they came from, to discover where they are, to let it shape where they are going.

Every picture is its own story.

Reflection

I still think of time in terms of semesters. With Matt in school, I’ll probably continue to mentally break the year into units for a while longer. I guess a sixteen year habit isn’t easily changed.

But time is so different now. As a student, time accomplishes things, even when you don’t. Just by the passing of time, milestones are reached. A semester ends and you move onto new classes. Changes happen, with minimal effort, with only the passing of time.

Now, one month blurs into the next and all of time is numbingly alike. Even the season change doesn’t impact me like it used to. Most of the day is spent inside the same gray-walled building. The weather might as well be gray and feel like a thermostat set to seventy degrees.

And what I’ve discovered is that I have to set my own milestones and create my own accomplishments. I thrive when I’m busy. It took me a year to settle down and create a life here in Cleveland, but now I’m busy. And thriving, I hope.

Things are good lately. I’m wearing a lot of hats. Coordinator. Girlfriend. Intern. Contributor. Volunteer. Friend. Aunt. Sister. The more the better, in my book. I do well with going from one thing to another. With constantly changing roles, switching activities, keeping my mind active.

And even though the passing of time isn’t the same as it was a couple of years ago, maybe it’s better. Maybe it forces me to be more intentional, to set my own goals. Maybe I’ll accomplish even more this way.

pictures taken in a beautiful window at the West Side Market

Resolution

I put pen to paper but it doesn't move. Just creates a tiny black dot in the midst of the otherwise empty whiteness. It should flow smoothly, without stopping. Words that create sentences, paragraphs, pictures.

I haven’t written in years. Didn’t this used to be my thing? Always, my answer to the what-do-you-want-to-be-when-you-grow-up? question was Writer. I pictured myself in a Southern city, cobbled streets overhung with Spanish moss, air heavy with heat, working in my bookstore. Pigtails and overalls and barefeet. Chatting with the regulars. Sipping coffee as I recommended books. Writing late into the night with a gray cat purring around my ankles.

And, somewhere along the line, it became a vision and nothing more. An ideal but not a pursued goal. Maybe, someday, eventually, it would happen. But I stopped working towards it. I got a cat and I named her Flannery O’Connor, but she wasn’t as sweet and purr-y and inspirational as I thought she would be. I stopped writing late into the night.

And so there is a single black dot that stares back at me as I stare at it. I imagine it twisting and winding around, creating a confluent line. A line that indicates something. One letter hooks to another and the words have meaning. They generate tears that fall in rivulets down wet cheeks and cause laughter to bubble forth.  And though the emotions are momentary, the words get into people’s minds and leave an impression, like a photograph that fades over time but will never be looked at without a smile and memories.

The pen is lying motionless on the table. The words and thoughts are still trapped inside, making it feel weighty, and my hand is glad to be rid of its heaviness. I will try to free them tomorrow.

Album

My thoughts lately have been circling around the ideas of creative outlet, self-expression, and reflection.

There is much that could be said on this topic but the condensed version of my conclusions is something like this: Everyone requires time to reflect and to fully be themselves, which is what an outlet provides. Allowing time for creativity, expression, and reflection provides a chance to immerse ourselves in something we truly enjoy, something that is at the core of our individual beings, something that provides relaxation because it allows us to become completely ourselves while we are doing it. 

The exact form the outlet takes differs for each individual because our personalities, interests, desires, etc. are vastly different. For example, Matt winds down by creating processes, fixing things, using the mechanical part of his mind. I, on the other hand, am the opposite. My outlet has to be something that is free-flowing, that is less dependent on set structure and organization.

I've also been thinking about collaboration. The importance of sharing with others, being spurred on and inspired by discussion, having ideas evolve as new contributions are made. Individual reflection can hatch brilliant ideas, but the next step in the process is allowing those ideas to take root and develop as they are shared.

As Matt and I have discussed these ideas, we've felt prompted to grow together creatively this year by taking on a project that combines a couple of our interests: photography and music.

We are please to present our new project, Album. Album is a collaborative effort that will hopefully drive us to expand our creative abilities, while sharing some of our photography. 

Each month will highlight one album that holds significance for us. Each week, we will post a picture that each of us have taken, inspired by the album.

To follow along with our project, visit the Album page, which can be found HERE. 

Personality

These pictures were taken while Matt and I were listening to some new (to us) albums. I insisted that the only way to really listen to a record is while lying on the floor. He humored me.

I am an INFJ

He is an INTJ.

That one varied letter makes a world of difference.

I love talking about relationships and people.
He thinks it's meaningless chatter.

I am rejuvenated by long, in-depth conversations.
He is drained by them.

He loves process and systems. Coming up with new solutions.
I like rule-keeping and people-pleasing.

He understands theoretical concepts easily.
I have to think deeply and slowly make connections to make sense of things around me.

We don't use words in the same way.

Sometimes I wonder how we are together. And yet here we are, after five years, more in love than we ever have been.

Lancaster

Vacating normal life provides a chance to view things from a new perspective.

The past couple of days I've been thinking about goals that I have. Accessible life goals. Things that are possible but that I haven't made an effort to achieve, because of a lack of motivation or a perceived lack of time. It's wasteful, really. I have abilities, drive, passion, energy. 

Why is it so easy to let life get in the way of really living? For obligation to outweigh meaningful experience?

Moving forward, I need to stop floating and start to create.

This Time Last Year

I've been thinking about these dear friends lately. It was this month last year that they became Mr. and Mrs. It was also this week last year that I traveled across the country, moved into my apartment, started a new job. Started a new life.

And I can't believe that it's already been a year. A year of transition and change and instability for all of us. But so much learning and growing and joy.

The beautiful girl in these pictures, Mary, is one of three girls who know me and can tell me what I'm going to do or say before I even know it myself sometimes. It's so good to be known and, now that I don't live around these girls, I often miss it.

Life now is different but, when I take time to stop and appreciate where I am, I realize that it is still good. I know more about myself than I did a year ago. I've had so many new experiences this year that I couldn't even begin to list them. And my three roommates are still there for me when I need them. They are still a stabilizing force in my life. And now we've added some husbands to the group, which makes it even better. The more, the merrier.


Love and miss you, Mary and Ben, J and J (and Graham), and E.

Lately

I've been thinking a lot lately about voice and presence. 

This year has been a year of instability and transition. In the midst of it all, I've lost sight of important things about where I've been and where I'm going.

There are changes coming in the future. Concrete changes, emotional changes, changes in the way I think, changes in the things I do. I've had time for self-reflection and I know some things are going to be different. Look for it to be reflected in this space.

Today

A moment of my day.

Sometimes it's necessary to just stop and appreciate something beautiful, in the midst of busyness.

Today

Today, I woke up and laid in bed for a few minutes, savoring the feeling of heavy, cozy blankets keeping me warm and the cold morning air making my nose cold.

Today, I showered, picked out an outfit, and got ready for work while enjoying a hot, strong cup of coffee.

Today, I left my apartment and walked into the cold, blustery morning while it was still pitch black outside.

Today, I drove into work and thought about how the commute into the city is nicer in the dark. All of the brake lights and headlights make bright patterns against the darkness. It's a time for me to slow down, to think, to be in the quiet of my car.

Today, I walked into work, turned on the lights to my office. Settled in for a busy day.

Today, I answered email. Organized. Planned. Delegated. Went to meetings. Made lists and checked things off of lists.

Tonight, I stopped at Goodwill on my way home to look for supplies for a new project. Sometimes I need a creative outlet after I spend all day exercising the analytical side of my personality.

Tonight, I cleaned my apartment and put my life back in order.

Tonight, I arranged mums and place them in vases around my apartment, loving their deep Fall colors and their simple beauty.

Tonight, I went grocery shopping for baking ingredients and then spent time making my apartment smell like pumpkin and cinnamon and Fall.

Tonight, I will crawl into bed, appreciating my heavy, cozy blankets and the lingering scent of baking. And I will fall asleep, tired after a full day.

Coffee Club

Tonight, just to get out of my apartment and do some work, I went to a coffee shop that I used to frequent in high school, the Coffee Club in Broadview Heights. It's is not a trendy coffee shop. But it is a great place to sit and be comfortable, to drink coffee and read. There are little, out-of-the-way tables and nooks where you can sit for hours and never be disturbed.

Having lived in Cleveland before, I find that I'm often reminded of my past life here. Echoes of younger me still resonate in many of the places I visit. The Coffee Club is one of those places.

My most distinct memory here happened during my freshman year of college. Over Christmas break, I met up with several friends for coffee. We wanted to catch up on each other's lives since we were living states apart. 

And I had a boy to gush about. I vividly remember telling my friends all about Matt. What he looked like. Why I was falling for him. How we had gone for a walk during the first snow fall of the year-- bundled warmly, throwing snow at each other, and talking about everything we could think of. I wasn't yet sure if he liked me, but my friends insisted that he did.

And then, as freshman girls do, we became giddy and giggly. Someone stole his number out of my phone and threatened to call him. I panicked and protested, but continued to laugh. She never called him, but years later admitted that she'd never deleted his number from her phone. 

All of this came flooding back to me tonight. A memory that I probably never would have thought of again if I hadn't gone back to the place where it happened.

Cleveland is a juxtaposition of my past and present. Maybe that's why I love it so much. There are good memories here and difficult ones. But there is also the opportunity to create whatever kind of memories I want to create, this time around.